


Mail Call (yet again)

by impulsereader



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulsereader/pseuds/impulsereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baked goods and a letter from home.  Fluffy as the day is long.  (Except, perhaps, if you're a bundt cake.  If you are, beware mystery liquids.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mail Call (yet again)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge 109 over at great_tales on LJ.
> 
> Challenge prompt:
> 
> As suggested by lindahoyland, this month's challenge will be a five word challenge. That is, I'll give you five words you must include in your fic. The five words are these:
> 
> key, straw, fault, message, chandelier
> 
> To make things a bit more challenging, we'll have a word count this time. Your fic must be exactly 300 words.

“I think we can resuscitate the fudge, but the bundt cake’s parents are about to get an unwelcome message by telegram.”

“Ah, come on, it can’t be that bad. We’ll smush it back together.”

BJ stared into the box dubiously. “I don’t think so, it got all wet with something...I don’t know what, but it doesn’t smell right.” He wrinkled his nose and chucked the box and its offending contents into the trash. “It’s all right, I’ll tell Peg it was great and she’ll send another one. Maybe we’ll get lucky next time.”

Hawkeye looked up from his letter to dramatically gasp in mock horror. “You would lie to Peg, Beej? Just to get us some cake?”

BJ kicked back on his cot, settling the box of fudge on his chest. “Ah, ah, ah, it’s not a lie if I’m sure it actually was great at some point. Flattery is the key to a good marriage.”

“Oh yeah? I thought that was ignorance.”

“Well, in this case it’s both.”

“Listen to this, Dad says the re-enactors of Crabapple Cove are on strike. Apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back was the Mayor’s refusal to shell out for new gold braid this year.”

“Ouch, gold braid past its prime; there’s nothing worse.”

“They blame the original seamstresses.”

“Those dastardly seamstresses are always the ones at fault,” BJ agreed heartily around a mouthful of fudge.

“No quality control. Ha! He says they’re picketing City Hall! They have signs that say, ‘Real gold braid does not fade.’. Why didn’t he send pictures?” Hawkeye lamented.

“Cheer up, maybe they’ll still be striking when you get home.”

“Oh, it gets better," he crowed, "they stormed the place and took out a chandelier!”

“You know, Hawk, sometimes I wonder about that town of yours.”


End file.
